


Irresistible

by EzraTheBlue



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: M/M, Mild S&M, Non-Penetrative Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 17:00:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6337588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EzraTheBlue/pseuds/EzraTheBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Goku discovers something about himself, and begins to endeavor both to understand and get rid of it. Can Goku resist his own urges, or is he just going to cause more trouble trying to resist his own mind?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Irresistible

**Author's Note:**

> This idea hit me listening to the radio, from the Fall Out Boy single of the same name, and then refused to go away. I don't think I've written 393 since I was in high school, back when I first joined the fandom. I've also never written S&M before, or at least not a story focused on it. Despite the idea hanging over me for a while, it took a while for me to pick all the pieces out of my head and put them together, so I sincerely hopes it comes together well. I'm trekking into new territory here. 
> 
> Oh, and happy birthday, Sensei! I'm sorry I'm making your characters do naughty things. OTL Enjoy, guys!

**Irresistible**

He'd messed up before but this, this was spectacularly bad.

It had started in the morning, when he and Gojyo had argued over the last piece of bacon and ended up knocking it into their campfire. Sanzo had whacked him with the fan. He'd dropped one of the tent poles onto Sanzo's foot, and got another smack with the fan for his troubles. At least the inevitable youkai attack didn't get him a scolding, since when he knocked that guy into the embers of their fire, Sanzo actually almost smiled. Still, he was already figuring he was having an off morning.

He was minding his own business (or, as Sanzo put it, begging for trouble), napping in the back seat and half-sprawled onto Gojyo's side of the bench. Gojyo pushed him, he woke up and pushed back, they ended up wrestling, and Goku managed to shove Gojyo hard against the side of the Jeep just as they hit a particularly large pothole. Suddenly, Jeep was on its side and all four of them were dumped in a ditch on the side of the road.

Yeah. Spectacularly bad.

Hakkai was healing the scrapes on Hakuryuu's sides, as Gojyo finished wrapping bandages around his own arm. Goku had rolled out remarkably unharmed, but couldn't help but feel as terrible as if he'd been hurt. Sanzo was putting plaster on his face and a few gashes in his chest, and Goku watched forlornly, his nerves beating at his stomach lining like too many angry butterflies. He could never decide what was worse: getting hurt, or watching Sanzo be hurt.

Especially when he was responsible for Sanzo being hurt.

Sanzo got up all at once, the top of his robes still swinging loose around his waist and his bandaged shoulders tense. The butterflies in Goku's belly all died at once, his gut seizing and a frisson of terror running all the way from the base of his spine to the top of his hair. Sanzo pivoted around and stormed towards him.

"What's your excuse?" His lip curled, and Goku cringed.

"It was an accident! We were just roughhousing, I tackled him, and--it all just happened so fast!"

"That's not good enough!" WHAP! There was the harisen. Goku instinctively blocked his face with his arms, as Sanzo laid out a line of stinging blows across his forearms, shouting, "What if we'd been on a mountain pass, or on a bridge? We'd be dead, and you wouldn't have a fucking chance to be sorry!" He punctuated this with a slap to Goku's hands. Goku groaned, his stomach twisting, and peered out from around his hands.

"I'm sorry! I'll be more careful next time!"

"There won't be a next time!" Sanzo swooped in for an uppercut, slapping Goku upside the chin, then threw the fan at Goku's chest. It smacked across his collarbone, and Goku just _knew_ that was going to leave a mark. Sanzo snatched his collar and pulled him close, the whiff of nicotine and Sanzo's sandalwood soap rolling across Goku's nose, roiling in Goku's gut, the instinctive chill of fear rising up through him as Sanzo hissed, "You are a goddamned adult, and you know better. Quit this shit, or I'll leave you in the ditch next time."

Goku's mouth had gone dry, but he licked his lips. "I'm sorry, Sanzo. I'll be more careful next time." He tried to back away, but that's when he felt something was wrong.

Sanzo, flushed and out of breath, snatched up the fan and stormed off, declaring that he needed a smoke. Goku remained in place, slowly dropping his arms to his sides, and realizing he needed to catch his breath. Gojyo whistled, and circled around to pat Goku on the shoulder.

"Sheesh, kid, that was rough. It was an accident. Don't let him get to ya." He trudged off after that in the same general direction as Sanzo, as Goku could only manage a few shaky nods.

See, getting hit never hurt much, Goku was just so afraid of making Sanzo angry. However, something about getting hit was triggering something usually saved for weird dreams that made him wake up sweaty, or the rare times he got a private shower, because his pants had suddenly gotten way too tight and he was almost sure it had nothing to do with the meatbuns Gojyo hadn't noticed him stealing.

Yeah. Getting smacked around by Sanzo had made his dick hard. At least Goku could say this epiphany was the worst part of an otherwise inglorious day.

* * *

 

Goku had a perfectly good idea of how his penis worked. He'd gotten a thorough explanation after he first discovered it did anything other than water the flowers, because he'd loudly asked Sanzo over the communal breakfast at the monastery why he woke up sticky. Sanzo had turned a lot of pretty colors, beat him with the fan until he turned ugly colors, and marched him down to Hakkai and Gojyo's cottage. Hakkai had sat him down in their kitchen with a plate of mandarins and patiently explained the nature of sexual reproduction, and that even if he was too young or unprepared or even uninterested in reproduction of any form, his body was leaps and bounds ahead of him and would likely start making ready whether or not he was ready.

“You may have urges, perfectly natural, healthy urges. Everyone has them, and handles them differently,” he'd said, and took up one of Gojyo's magazines, then flipped it open to an image of scantily-clad women playing beach volleyball. “You may seek out material that stokes these urges, like our friend does.” With that, Hakkai crumpled the magazine and tossed it into the wastebasket. “It's possible your body may drive you towards your own urges, images in your mind, fantasies, or just reacting without your say-so. Usually, a little mental control will shut these down, but sometimes, you may find it difficult or impossible to control them, like when you're asleep. If you find yourself with an unexpected erection, either waking up with one or getting one out of nowhere--”

And here, Gojyo interrupted from under the quilt on the sofa: “Then find somewhere private and jack it good and hard, 'cause you do what you gotta, but ain't nobody want to see your chimpy ass spanking your monkey.”

“Gojyo.” It had always impressed Goku how Hakkai could scold with a single word, because Hakkai's tone even had him cringing. Gojyo winced, but rolled over.

“What? It's true. You get hard, you whack off and it goes away.”

“Gojyo.” That sounded a bit more chiding and exasperated, and Hakkai turned his focus back to Goku. “Take a few breaths, think of white space, and usually, it will go away.”

Goku had shrugged, because it was all Greek to him. Only later did he really get it: that sometimes, he would have dreams of scantily-clad volleyball games between the waitresses at the dim sum place and the newspaper delivery boys and that's why he woke up with his boxers stuck to his thighs; he'd hear noises through the inn room walls (because Gojyo liked to talk, and Hakkai moaned and giggled) and have to grab himself to make sure he didn't get hard; and yes, sometimes, if he had the shower to himself, he'd find himself thinking of the girls who'd serve him meat buns with blushing cheeks or, more frequently, the times he did share a shower with Sanzo. He'd think about the slope of his back, the curve of his ass, his regal features, the hard line of his mouth, and water running all down him, and he'd jerk his dick so hard he was lucky he didn't break something. But those were natural urges and fantasies, Hakkai had said when he'd (non-specifically) asked, and it was okay, perfectly healthy and normal, even, to indulge them as long as he was appropriate with them.

He had plenty of fantasies about Sanzo. He'd been very careful to tuck each one away for later. His belly would flip-flop a little in those quiet moments they shared, when Sanzo would be leaned up against the Jeep smoking and listening to Goku talk. When he would scold him and grunt insults he didn't mean at him, especially when he laughed. Those treasured moments when Sanzo's long, callused fingers would thread into his hair and ruffle it up into a tousled, fluffy mess, and he'd laugh and slick it back down, and he'd feel like he'd just drank a whole mug of hot cocoa, warm and sated and happy in the wake of that simple gesture. Those laughs and touches were like panacea for all of his worries and anxieties, and Goku knew that those scant shared moments fueled mental images of doing the same things, touching, talking, laughing, but a lot more naked, and probably other things too. Mostly kissing. Kissing lots of places. Those matched up enough with the other “okay” fantasies that Goku didn't mind them, he just made sure Sanzo never knew he was having them.

Goku was damn sure that fantasizing about getting beaten with the fan was not normal, and as little as he tried to think about that incident for the rest of the day, after taking lots of calming breaths and thinking of decidedly unsexy things (that one time he broke his leg, that one monk with the big mole shaped like Genghis Khan's face, Kougaiji's fire demon in a Speedo), it came back that night. He dreamed of Sanzo throwing him over his knee and tanning his naked ass raw with the fan, then his hand, leaving him squirming and writhing in pain and pleasure, until he woke up with a boner so hard it hurt. He tried to make it go away (really focused on the mole guy that time) but it didn't, and he finally caved and brought himself off. He thought about Sanzo's fan, then Sanzo's hand, the whole time.

He'd only ever thought about nice stuff (smiling waitresses, his friends, pretty people) when he'd had “urges” before. Good things. Things like Sanzo's scent, and thoughts of his naked chest and tight butt? Those were good. Thoughts of being harmed? Those were not okay. Getting hit with the fan -- again, that didn't hurt, but Sanzo was _punishing_ him. Punishment was bad. It meant he was bad. Sanzo was trying to correct him, he shouldn't have enjoyed it in any shape or form. This was wrong, and he knew it.

He was confused and didn't know what to do, and he had no idea how to deal with it. He would have asked Hakkai, but he didn't have even the first clue of what to say. “Hey, Hakkai, is it okay if I like getting hit? Do people like pain sometimes? Can pain make you horny?” Yeah, those might get him answers, but then Hakkai would immediately know what was going on and he'd never be able to look at Hakkai again. Worse, Mama Bear Hakkai might step in and tell Sanzo to stop hitting him, and Goku really, _really_ didn't want that. He tried to think of a few sideways approaches, but he knew he wasn't nearly as clever as Hakkai, and he just knew that anything he said would somehow tip him off. His best bet was to keep his big mouth shut, because even one wrong word with Hakkai would unlock a world of trouble.

Talking to Gojyo was a bad idea too. Gojyo wasn't as smart as Hakkai, but he already teased Goku about him and Sanzo doing stuff together anyway. Always, “Aww, does the pet need his master?” and cracks about kissing and making up. Sanzo would usually point the pistol at him and shut him up, but Goku would only end up getting mad and firing back at the pervy kappa for being a pervy kappa, and then they'd just have another tussle and knowing Goku's luck, tip the Jeep over again, and then Sanzo would beat him, and he'd likely pop another boner and wouldn't be able to hide it in time. Then again, Gojyo knew sex stuff. Hakkai could tell him all sorts of things about the science stuff of sex, the textbook stuff, but Gojyo had experience. Or he said he had experience, anyway, and since he used to sort of vanish some nights and some back smelling like musk and someone else's perfume, Goku mostly believed him, so he'd know about weird stuff like things that turn you on that shouldn't. He just had to figure out a way to talk to him about it without dropping the hint that he was having that problem.

Then again, maybe it wasn't a problem. Maybe it was just a freak occurrence. Maybe he needed to test it more. Gojyo was good for that, too.

They were taking a long morning to let Hakkai run through the market, so while Sanzo was pretending to be a proper priest by reading sutras at the local temple, Gojyo and Goku had been left to their devices in the inn. For Gojyo, this means snoozing in the lobby waiting for Hakkai to come back, and for Goku, it meant he could tap Gojyo on the shoulder and ask: “Hey, wanna spar?”

Gojyo groaned, but rolled up to his feet. “Guess I ain't doin' much else.” He let Goku lead him out to the yard behind the inn, bordered by the back porch, a few fruit trees on either side, and a shallow river. Gojyo scratched a line in the dirt with his toe, then stood behind it and summoned the shakujou into outstretched hands. He gave it a few test swings, but Goku found he couldn't take his eyes off the blade. The idea of “testing” this with live steel sounded like a bad day waiting to happen.

“Hey, how 'bout we spar with just fists?” Goku shrugged, hands open, and put on a grin that he hoped hid his nerves. “I don't wanna accidentally hurt ya, my luck's been off an' all.”

“Oh, 'zat what this is?” Gojyo grinned, but tossed the shakujou lightly to make it vanish. “Just testing your luck?”

“Sure, something like that.” Goku tensed a little as Gojyo limbered up, shaking out his long arms and legs, then cast his jacket off and onto a low limb behind him. Under the baggy suede, Gojyo was lean and cut -- nowhere near as built as Gat had been, but still probably an eight out of ten -- and his pants hugged his hips and the line of his groin. Goku had to swallow hard to push that thought out. He wondered if thinking Gojyo was hot would affect his "experiment." He hoped it didn't. That would just raise a lot more creepy questions to be answered, with a lot fewer ways of answering them.

"Whenever you're ready, brat." Gojyo struck a pose like out of a wire-fighting flick, one leg up like a crane, hands in front of him in hard, chop-ready slabs, and Goku closed in quick with a haymaker. Gojyo caught him and blocked it, but Goku followed up with a punch aimed at Gojyo's jaw from below. Gojyo leaned back, Goku stumbled forward, and Gojyo clasped his fists together and aimed them down like a hammer across Goku's back. Goku went crashing down at Gojyo's feet, but rolled through his spread stance, popped up behind him, and kicked him in the back before he could fully turn around. Gojyo grunted and skidded back, but caught himself, laughing, and held himself in a grappling position, hands out and ready for pushback.

"Cheeky fucking monkey, you like to play dirty, huh?" It was a taunt, one Goku would happily rise to. He barreled forward and seized Gojyo's hands, but instead of wrestling with him, he kneed him in the gut.

"Only as dirty as a pervy kappa might!" Gojyo groaned and backed off of Goku, and Goku let him. If this were a real fight and he wanted to see Gojyo's blood on the grass, he would have grabbed hold of Gojyo's shoulders and yanked him close, then lifted him, flipped him, and dropped him hard. Nope. He'd put on enough of a show, and he knew by now he could run Gojyo through the upper crust if he really felt like it. The worst he was going to do now was throw out a few weak comebacks, then let Gojyo get the upper hand and see what happened. Gojyo didn't notice Goku watching him expectantly as he recovered, but after catching his breath, finally managed to wink at Goku.

“You're goin' easy, huh?” He rolled his shoulders back, cracked his knuckles against his palm, and paced towards Goku around the border where the grass started to slope towards the creek, his limbs loose. It wasn't a stance, but this was his natural style. He would fall into whatever position would benefit him the most. Goku knew he was being serious now. Good.

Goku matched the ease Gojyo was exuding with a casual grin and rested his hands on his hips. “Please, you know how easy I could take you down. The wimpy limpy kappa always loses when it comes down to it.”

Gojyo grunted an 'oof' and mock-rubbed his stomach as he paced closer to Goku. “Oh, that one hurt,” he drawled through a smirk. “Come on, stupid monkey, gimme some better punch lines!” At that, Gojyo planted his foot and pivoted around to punch Goku in the cheek. Goku saw it coming a mile away, and didn't even move to block it. He turned his head to make sure it didn't actually break anything, but took the full force of the blow.

Oh, it stung. Gojyo had only pulled the punch a little, and he wasn't weak by any stretch. Goku was just made of much tougher stuff. He instead drew his focus to a pinpoint around the pain and waited for his dick to react. Surprisingly – maybe thankfully – it didn't. Instead, the pain rolled through him, and Goku just grinned.

“Is that all you got?” He rolled back from the blow and swung at Gojyo, deliberately missing and pulling back his guard just as Gojyo went for the uppercut.

“Gettin' sloppy, stupid monkey!” The blow connected, and Goku's jaw _ached_. Shit. That one actually hurt.

And felt kinda good. Oh no.

Goku's prick twitched with interest, and the shock of that rolled through him. He couldn't react, and Gojyo followed up by kicking him in the gut and sending him skidding and rolling across the packed dirt and into a tree. He moaned at the impact and tried to inhale, but Gojyo was on him again, straddling his chest, and began to drive blow after blow into his chest, grinning victoriously. “Who's your fucking daddy now?” Goku moaned – shit, why did that sound sexy?! – and tried to wriggle free, but the friction against the join of Gojyo's legs only roused his waking libido that much more. Gojyo slapped him across the face, making his dick jump, and the smell of cigarette off of Gojyo seared his senses as he shouted again, “Tap, stupid monkey!”

Goku tried to taunt back, but all that came out was “Call me a stupid monkey again.” Gojyo stopped cold, his hand still raised, and he stared down at Goku, eyes wide.

“Whoa.” He got up all at once, as Goku desperately tried to catch his breath and explain, that came out wrong, didn't mean it like that, oh please please don't tell Hakkai, but before he could, Gojyo sank back down to his knees to give Goku a hand. “You don't have to get that pissed. I'm teasing. We joke. Did Sanzo get to you earlier or something?”

Goku strained to get air back into his lungs, and prayed Gojyo wasn't seeing the bulge where his erection warred with his zipper. “I... I...”

“You just sounded real aggressive there, kid. Like, we weren't play-fighting anymore.” Gojyo thumped his fist on Goku's chest. “Come on, lighten up! Did I hurt your feelings?” He grinned as if he were joking, but Goku could tell he wasn't. He couldn't think straight to answer, but he could feel the rasp in his throat, and thinking of how he sounded, it was like an animal, rough and husky.

Like he was angry. He was frustrated and upset, but he wasn't angry. Something else was doing that to his voice.

His prick throbbed and ached, straining against his zipper and the seam of his jeans. (Like he needed any more holes in them!) He flushed bright red, sitting up quickly, and jerked away from Gojyo's hand, because the more he touched him, the more he started wondering what Gojyo sounded like when his dick got hard. What if Gojyo had pushed him that little bit harder? What if he'd jumped up and pinned Gojyo down and-- and-- and-- he didn't even know _what_ he'd do, but his dick wanted to do something that the rest of him really didn't want to, and he needed to get out of here before he did something that gave Hakkai a reason to kill him.

Without actually responding to Gojyo, Goku hauled up to his feet and scrambled for the door, slipping on the grass but skidding past the threshold and praying Gojyo couldn't see his hard-on in his shadow across the grass. Gojyo yelled after him, but Goku couldn't hear him or calculate anything from the blood rushing in his ears. He bolted right to the bathroom and shut himself in one of the shower stalls, then worked his prick out of his pants and kneaded it in frustration.

This, this was scary. He'd gotten hard and horny from getting slapped around and insulted... the exact way Sanzo would do to him. His problem was worse than he could have dreamed, he just didn't know how. Either he really was getting turned on by being hurt, or he was so thirsty for Sanzo that just the mild facsimile of him was enough to turn him on.

Both were dangerous, and as much as Hakkai and Gojyo had taught him, he had no clue how to deal with this.

* * *

 

The Jeep had never felt so tiny and crowded. Goku compressed himself into his seat as much as possible, only grunting his annoyance when Gojyo took advantage of this to spread his leg out into Goku's foot space (though he damn near looked disappointed that Goku didn't rise to the bait and punch him in the thigh). Goku wasn't in a mood to talk.

Talking raised the risk that Sanzo might smack him one with the fan, he'd pop a boner, and boy wouldn't that ruin his day. Week. Life.

He tried to puzzle it out, but nothing clicked, nothing added up. Sanzo was good, but getting hit was punishment. He wasn't supposed to like punishment. He even wondered sometimes if he was supposed to like Sanzo, or allowed to like Sanzo. Sanzo was his sun, yes, but the sun burned when one came too close or was exposed too long. Goku imagined that was why Sanzo was so quick to punish, to reprimand, to push Goku back, to cause pain. Sanzo didn't want anybody close. That was why Goku would always tuck away those happy fantasies of warm kisses and slow caresses, why he tried so hard to think of pretty waitresses or guys lifting weights instead.

He'd had to get rid of his last erection by growling his own name ( _dammit Goku, stupid monkey, idiot!_ ) and smacking his thigh with his own palm while rubbing it out. No amount of waitresses, muscles, or meat buns was quelling this. He was sure if he couldn't get rid of this weird whatever-this-was, he was going to have a hard time keeping it away from the others and keeping any last shred of dignity at all.

As it stood, he caught a glimpse of Sanzo's eyes in the mirror and realized he'd been scowling as Goku forcefully ignored Gojyo's taunts, and he didn't look happy. Alright, he never really looked happy, but he looked a lot more not-happy than usual, and he got a bad feeling he was in for it now.

They made camp by a river that night, and Goku hurried off to wash himself. He nested down in a patch of reeds, rolled his jeans to his thighs and tried to look like he was checking himself over for wounds. Instead, he hunched over and checked his boxer shorts. They were clean, at least, so getting stared at like an ant viewed through a magnifying glass hadn't made his dick drool, because damn, even that mean look Sanzo had been wearing had been making it twitch. Even the sound of Sanzo's voice was starting to get to him.

"... I don't know and I don't care, but it's pissing me off. Talk to him. Fix this." Goku jumped, because crap, there he was! He tucked himself away and stilled, listening intently. He could only hear Sanzo's footsteps and the reverb of his aggressive order, which meant – ah, hell. He wet his hands and slicked them through his hair, just as the grass rustled behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Hakkai waiting, a genuinely disingenuous smile in its usual place.

"I hope I didn't startle you."

"I would'a been startled if I _had_ heard you coming." Goku grinned, and turned back around to cup more water in his hands, and so Hakkai wouldn't see the lie in his eyes as he pretended he hadn't heard Sanzo send Hakkai over. "Is something up?"

"Nothing serious, I should hope." Hakkai lowered himself to the ground, crossing his legs as he went, but not removing his focus from the back of Goku's head. "You've been acting rather strange the last two days. Gojyo told me you ran away from him while sparring without an explanation, and you weren't your spirited self today. I was concerned you were hiding an injury from when the Jeep flipped."

Goku's gut twisted with guilt as he ran his damp hands down his face. "Oh." Relief seeped in around his anxiety -– maybe that's all Hakkai would want. "No, I'm not hurt."

"Then, is something else the matter?"

Crap. Of course not. Goku turned partway around, water still dripping from the tips of his bangs and eyelashes. Without a good answer yet, he made to stall. "What do you mean?"

"Is something bothering you?" Oh, double crap, Hakkai actually looked concerned. The smile wasn't as big, his eyebrows were raised, he seriously thought there was something wrong. Goku knew he would just laugh at him over his stupid weird problem! Hakkai held a hand out. "You've been strange since the Jeep flipped, hence my suspicion of an injury. I do hope Sanzo didn't make you feel too terrible. It was an accident, after all."

The guilty twisting feeling was back, tugging at him like a hangman's noose, and Goku couldn't keep his face from falling. 'Make him feel terrible.' He was having the exact opposite problem. "No, it's nothing like that. I apologized, and you said it was okay."

"Goku." Hakkai laced his fingers, all but wringing his hands with the same concern woven into his tone. "I want to help."

Triple crap. Hakkai could read him like a book, and he read books damn fast. There was no way he was getting out of this conversation without actually talking about his problem. He swallowed, though his mouth was dry, and sorted through his entire vocabulary in a desperate attempt to capture the vaguest, least clear words possible that would still convey just enough.

"What if..." He paused to think again. "What if... I was having this problem... where I liked something I didn't want to like?"

Hakkai's smile wiped completely, and under the mask, Goku could see the wheels turning. "You like something you don't want to like," he repeated, sorting through every possible meaning those words could have like a safecracker turning dials. Goku prayed his mind didn't land on the correct combination.

"It's embarrassing," he whispered, then clammed shut like he could bite the words back. Hakkai, however, shook his head.

"You can tell me anything, and in confidence. I'll understand." Goku didn't unbite his lips, and Hakkai sighed. "If you're too nervous over it to tell me more, then the best I can do is suggest you train yourself out of liking whatever this is."

Goku relaxed –- he had a fix! -- but cocked his head. "What do you mean?"

"Ah. Simply put, if you find your mind drifting to whatever it is you don't want to like, punish yourself." Goku flinched at the word 'punish,' but dropped his eyes away. Hakkai continued, raising his finger like a teacher might. "For example, if whatever this is that's distracting you comes to mind, pinch yourself or force yourself to think of something that disgusts you. Think of this as a form of aversion therapy."

"Okay, so, if I think about..." Goku concentrated on anything but the thought of getting a smack from Sanzo. "Something like getting bit by a snake, or having to eat dirt, instead of--" He tried to think about biting a rock and not Sanzo's hand or the fan, and grimaced. "Instead of thinking about it, maybe I'll stop liking it."

"Perhaps." Hakkai rubbed his lower lip. "Although, it might be healthier for you to discuss your problems instead of repressing them."

"I dunno." Goku turned away again and scooped up another handful of water. His cheeks were hot, and even his reflection in his palms looked uncomfortable and embarrassed. "Some things kinda gotta be repressed. Otherwise, they could really hurt. It's okay." He made himself smile, then splashed the water onto his face.

The little hum Hakkai gave instead of a reply told Goku that he didn't believe him, and it very much wasn't, but he got to his feet and patted his back. "Dinner won't be long. Compose yourself and join us when you're ready. My offer to discuss this with you will never close." He rose and left, and Goku looked down into his own reflection again.

He could almost see Sanzo coming behind him and running his hands up his chest, through his hair, then pushing him onto his back and pinning him against the dirt. Then he imagined the pain of having his leg broken, plunged headfirst through the memory. Any pleasant thoughts he'd been having were sucked away into a vortex of not-good pain. He missed the good pain for a second, then shook it off and got to his feet.

“I'll stop liking it,” he reassured himself. “And then, it won't matter anymore.”

Maybe, he thought, he'd believe himself by then too.

* * *

 

Who was he kidding?

Goku was doing his damnedest to pinch himself whenever his mind drifted, to think of the most horrible things he could whenever Sanzo started to threaten him. He would stand, eyes glazed over like those of a fish on a cutting board, thinking about that time Ukoku Sanzo shredded him, about spicy things hidden in his rice balls and chewing on live centipedes, just to keep from embarrassing himself. It worked, to an extent. He took a slap across the face from the fan two days into his "aversion therapy" and didn't get hard.

He just felt miserable.

Worse, it wasn't like his body didn't want to have boners. No, they just started sneaking in other places. Like the way his dick would twitch a little when he happened to catch Sanzo catching a cigarette, because his eyes would drift to the way his mouth moved around the paper. Watching Sanzo comb his wet hair out after a shower, meticulously making sure it looked like he spent no time on it at all, made heat gather to a rolling boil in his gut with every stroke of lean fingers through damp golden locks.

He hated it, because it wasn't supposed to be like this, so he bit back harder. He tried to think white, of snow, of silence, then black, darkness, solitude, but he kept thinking in circles back to how every terrible memory he could bring up was assuaged by Sanzo. How Sanzo signed his cast when his leg was broken, how Sanzo let him order only the foods he liked with only token complaints, how Sanzo had broken him of his fear of the snow, how Sanzo had broken him loose, and then, the way he'd ruffle his hair after smacking him with the fan. How that felt so nice. That was something that was okay to like, but he knew if he let it go a second further, he'd be right back to thinking about that fan.

He could clamp down on a beating, but existing in Sanzo's space had somehow suddenly become unbearable.

It was too much. The rustle of his newspaper, the click and hiss of his cheap lighter, the whiff of secondhand smoke off of his discarded clothes, the very aesthetic of Sanzo: it made his belly do flip-flops and wiggle against his ribcage, it made it harder for him to breathe. It came to a point where he could only survive the whole day in the Jeep with his control intact was to bury his face in his hands sometimes and press on his own eyelids.

This had to stop. This had to end. Even if he could just de-escalate back down to normal, healthy fantasies, maybe he could live with what he had to admit was a crush on Sanzo. He could shake this off like so many little colds and other sicknesses that usually rolled off his back, and get back to being normal.

He put together how he could do it, too. Hakkai told him to think of bad things when he got the temptation. That was a punishment. What he needed was a real punishment. Something to show the consequences of those thoughts, that distraction, that want, that need. Not the consequence of anyone finding out, no, those would be infinitely worse than anything he could dream up, but a punishment for his distraction. He had to make sure he would never like pain again. That'd solve it.

The next time they were accosted by youkai on the road, he was going to solve it.

They barely got a warning this time, only a spark through the air like a cord had been snapped taut, and Goku vaulted the Jeep's wall despite the shouted warning behind him. The Nyoibo sprung to his hands, like it always did, and he put his plan into action: get lost in the fray so the others wouldn't see him, and go from there.

He swung his way through, pushing back and parrying away from the Jeep and the others, focusing squarely on the youkai he'd first engaged. He'd picked a good one – thick with muscle, ferocious, huge teeth, swinging back at him with an impossibly huge knife -- the others might even believe that he'd struggled with the guy, or that he'd been goofing around and just was caught off-guard. Goku knew better. He kept pushing, kept getting back and away from Sanzo.

"Come on," he taunted the youkai, and ducked under a swing from his knife. "You call this a fight?" The youkai snarled incoherently, and Goku struck his arms with the nyoibo, sending him staggering back. Not a hard hit, just enough to fan the flames, and from the murder in his attacker's eyes, he had done the trick. He roared, flecks of spittle spattering Goku's shirt, and barreled towards him like a charging bull.

Goku had him right where he wanted him. Take one good, hard hit, remember why he should avoid it, and learn to cringe when Sanzo hit him again.

Except.

Shit.

Only now was he seeing just how awful, how stupid, how fucked up it was that he was blocking out what had become part of their repartee just because he couldn't control his reaction to it. So what if he liked Sanzo hitting him? Sanzo wouldn't hit him if he didn't like it too.

And now he was standing still, watching death charge towards him, and found himself caught on the precipice of mad laughter and panic, but ended up throwing up his nyoibo just in time to block. He felt the knife catch on his left shoulder for a fraction of a second, then a gunshot from somewhere behind him.

The pain screamed down his breast and shot up his spine, radiating through him, but the youkai crumpled to a heap, and Sanzo carved his way through the crowd, firing everywhere but towards him, with rage plain in the curl of his lips and the scowl in his brow, and all Goku could think was that Sanzo was really sexy when he was saving his life. He groped up towards the searing wound as Sanzo reached him, the gun still out and smoking at his hip, as Gojyo and Hakkai finished clearing their path, and groaned as he felt the blood soaking into his shirt. His heart was racing, he could _taste_ the adrenaline like copper on his tongue, his breath came ragged, but instead of taking the pain and wallowing and whining, it was just a rush. Pain that reminded him he didn't get gutted today. That he was alive, and Sanzo was here, and... and...

_WHAP!_

There was the harisen.

“What the fuck were you doing?!” Sanzo smacked the fan across Goku's face again. Goku groaned, because the adrenaline was leaving his mouth and surging through the rest of him. Sanzo seized Goku by the collar and slapped him over and over. “It's like you were trying to get killed!” He hit him upside the jaw, then brought the fan down hard on the top of his head. “Stupid! Fucking! Monkey!”

Goku's paper-thin resolve broke, and he groaned soft, dark pleasure at the sting. He could feel his pants tighten for a fraction of a second, his prick stirring at the sensation, but the boner wilted away before he could start to enjoy it. However, knowing he was alive because Sanzo was beating the shit out of him, he could feel his own goofy grin and sparking warmth and appreciation in his own gaze. Sanzo's eyes widened with sudden perception, but just as he was about to tell him off, Goku's vision went wobbly and everything went gray.

* * *

 

There was the scent of cigarette smoke, but it was the wrong brand.

He opened his eyes slowly, and moaned his regret. The sunlight beaming on his face was just too damn bright, too much too soon. He tried to move, to sit up from prone, and found his shoulder – his whole left side, in fact – stiff and uncooperative. He grunted as the effort failed, then gathered his strength and tried again.

“Wouldn't do that.” There was a whoosh of breath, and Goku forced himself to a sit to see Gojyo sitting in a flimsy-looking chair at the end of his bed with his feet propped on the mattress. Goku didn't recognize the room they were in. It looked like an inn, and they all started to look the same after a while, cheap wood paneling and wrinkled tatami mats, usually twin mattresses and pancake-flat pillows, but usually, he was waking up in a room with Sanzo in it. Gojyo snorted as Goku sat forward, then took another drag on his cigarette. “Guess I couldn't stop you. How you feel, kid?”

“Like someone took a knife to my shoulder.” He managed a weak grin to suit the weak joke. Not even a joke, if he was being honest with himself. “What happened?”

“Before or after you passed out?”

Goku tried to kick him, but that just hurt. “After, stupid, I was there before.”

“Yeah, well.” Gojyo exhaled a lazy smoke ring, and flicked his focus swiftly over Goku. “You lost a good amount of blood there. The cut wasn't deep, but it hit a good spot. You've been out a day and a half. Hakkai patched you up and forced a whole lot of water into you. You should be back at a hundred in a week or so.”

“Aw, a week?!” Goku moaned and flopped back on the pillow, and instantly remembered why he shouldn't have done that. “Owww...”

“Ooh, ticked that motherfucker up to eight days right there,” Gojyo snickered. “Nah, knowing you, probably less. It's just as well.” He dropped his spent butt into the empty beer can on the bedside table, then fished out a fresh smoke. “The only way to get across the river to the next town is by ferry, and while the ferry's running, it's a long-ass ride and the sumbitch ain't gonna be back here for another three days. Sanzo was pissed, but that's the way the dice land. So, you got time to mend.” Gojyo crossed one leg over the other and tilted his chair back, studying the end of his cigarette, before looking right at Goku's face. “So, I'm just gonna ask you what happened before you passed out.” He dropped his feet to the ground and the legs of the chair with it, their impact percussion for the sudden ache that gripped Goku's chest.

“B... Before...”

“You know. Before you tried to get yourself killed and then got all moony-faced when Sanzo beat the shit out of you.” Gojyo tore his focus away all at once. “You could blame that second part on the blood loss, except then Hakkai and I got to talking, and we pieced some shit together. You know. Those questions you asked him, plus when you goaded me into fighting with you and finished it off by asking me to call you a stupid monkey.” Humiliation welled up through Goku, and he moaned and scrubbed his hands down his face.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, you were trying to be subtle, huh?” Gojyo snickered, and the cold feeling in Goku's throat suddenly got hot. He felt nauseous, but Gojyo laughed easily and waved his cigarette hand, sprinkling ash and spreading thin smoke. “Sorry, monkey; I'll give you credit for trying. Tell me, in your own words, what's up.”

So, he did. Goku explained what had happened from the day he'd realized getting hit with the fan was a huge turn-on, and how it'd escalated the more he tried to resist, right up to figuring one good reminder that pain was bad would cure him. “It didn't,” he concluded. Gojyo had alternated between staring at his mostly-ignored cigarette until he needed to light up a fresh one and actually making eye contact with Goku. Goku wished he'd say something, but he didn't and hadn't. He was starting to want a cigarette. Or Sanzo. Not knowing what Sanzo thought of him made him itch like he was craving nicotine. After thirty seconds of silence and Gojyo's claret eyes swallowed and shaded by the fall of his hair, Goku groaned and curled around his aching stomach. “Man, now I'm hungry and everything is awful.”

“It is not.” Gojyo planted a big hand on Goku's head. “Shit, kid, why didn't you just straight-out tell me or Hakkai? Not telling Sanzo, yeah, I get that, but we're your friends.”

“Because it's fucked up!”

“Fuck yeah, it is!” Gojyo tossed his hair back and grinned at Goku. “Newsflash, bud: we're all fucked up!” He laughed sharply, slapping his legs. “Shit, people are into some fucked up stuff sometimes! You think getting off on being hit is bad? There's dudes who can't get hard unless they're choking themselves, and even that's tame! Getting off on getting smacked around ain't so bad.” He scooted the chair close to Goku, leaning in. “Listen, a little S&M kink is basically as vanilla as you can get for kink. I'm gonna be honest, Hakkai kinda likes that sometimes. You don't want details, I know, but shit, you don't know how hot it is when he begs me to tie him up and spank his ass, all the pretty black ropes on his pale skin--”

“Wait, wait, wait.” There was a lot rattling around his brain all at once, and Goku shook his head just to try to catch some of it. “For real? You mean other people like getting hurt?”

“Well, in context.” Gojyo rolled his eyes. “Hitting to actually hurt someone isn't okay, but pleasure and pain are two sides of a coin, and they both come from adrenaline. And there's rules to it. Most basic one is this: safe, sane, consensual. Meaning, you gotta know your limits, and everyone involved has to be cool with it.” He kicked back in the chair again and crossed his arms. "But here's the thing. You can't just try to hold it back."

Goku's face felt hot, the skin too tight. "Um..."

"See, you can try. Hell, you did. And it got worse, right?" Gojyo rocked the legs of the chair up again, tilting back, then catching his balance as he searched for words behind his cigarette. "Take it from me, kid, the more you make something taboo, the more tempting it is." He winked at Goku, who jerked back.

"Buh--"

"Yeah, I know. You think it's wrong. But look, it's kinda like trying not to have brown hair, or trying to just be taller. It's sorta part of you, and even if it's hard to say why, you can't just ignore it and hope it goes away." Gojyo set his chair's legs down again and faced Goku, dead on. "You just kinda gotta roll with your stuff sometimes. If it means you get a little hot and bothered when Sanzo smacks you around, that's what it's gotta be, but it'll be a lot easier if you just kind of accept it. We're your friends. We get it. We're all a little messed up, y'know? What's most important is that you figure out what's gonna make you happy."

Somehow, Gojyo's acceptance told him everything. If Gojyo was this open to him, then Hakkai probably wouldn't mind that he was a little weird. That just left one question. He sighed to think of it, and his face fell. "Sanzo..." He grasped the blanket in his hand, but Gojyo leaned forward and nudged Goku's chest.

“Hey. Look at me.” He smiled in a warm, familiar way that made Goku feel too comfortable, then tweaked his cheek. “Sanzo's only human. He's a fucking prick, but he's a guy like the rest of us. Just be honest with him. I'm pretty sure Hakkai's talked him back from the edge.” With that, Gojyo sat back. “Who knows? Maybe he'll even smack you with the fan, since it turns out you like it.”

Goku hauled up and smacked Gojyo's leg. “Don't be an asshole! This is still embarrassing!” But Gojyo just laughed and slapped Goku's shoulder back, and in seconds, the two of them fell back into jabbing and teasing at each other.

Goku's heart felt lighter than it had in weeks. Even if that was just a veil over the worries that waited, he wasn't forcing himself to hold back.

* * *

 

Hakkai came to visit and examine his wounds a few hours later, and even though Goku wasn't quite brave enough to broach the topic of his exposed secret, Hakkai was already there. He patted Goku's head as he replaced the last bandage. “You know you can talk to me about anything. I won't mock you, and I might be able to answer some questions you might have.” He ran his hand down Goku's back, then departed. Goku was sure of the implications in it, but he couldn't quite bring himself to actually ask anything, and he wasn't sure what to ask yet.

No, what was really going to count here was actually having a solid conversation with Sanzo about what had happened between them. He knew it wouldn't be easy, and would probably be at least a little painful, but hell, that couldn't be too bad, could it?

He just kept missing him, every chance he might have had. Sanzo didn't come to visit for the two days Hakkai insisted he stay in bed. He didn't dare ask Hakkai or Gojyo why, either, because even he knew that was a stupid question. When he got out of bed for the first time, he couldn't find Sanzo in the room Hakkai had said was theirs. He wasn't at breakfast, lunch, or dinner, he'd just come in to find a cigarette still smoldering in the ashtray and an empty plate next to his full one, and he spent the hours between meals wandering their inn and the streets in the little town in hopes of coming across him. He was sure he was close, never too far behind – he knew Sanzo's scent as well as his face -- but there was always at least a little distance. Maybe it was on purpose. Sanzo had always put distance between himself and everything. He probably wasn't ready to close in on their situation. He probably would rather just push Goku back as long as he possibly could. Trouble was, Goku knew what holding back like that did. He would collapse under the weight eventually.

Unless Sanzo really was just that much stronger. Maybe he could just hold back forever. Goku got the feeling that he couldn't. However, that didn't mean Goku wouldn't at least help him let it down easy.

It wasn't until that night that Goku got even a little glimpse of Sanzo, but it turned out that glimpse was the first penny in a windfall. He heard Sanzo's voice as he came into their inn hallway, and jumped at the shout and hid behind the linen closet door.

" –- I never agreed to this!"

"Sanzo," Hakkai answered in his lilting tones, the timbre one might use to calm an angry boar, "I would like to have a private conversation with Gojyo. As Goku's wounds are mended, he no longer needs to be watched as closely. Kindly let me have an evening to rest.” With that, the other door shut, and Sanzo turned around, huffing like a steam bellows, and Goku froze up all at once when he felt Sanzo's gaze lock onto him. The air _clicked_. Goku made to skitter back, but Sanzo set his hands on his hips.

“I see you. I know what the fuck he's doing. Get over here and let's get this bullshit over with.” Goku cringed, but sheepishly crept out from behind the door, shutting it as he passed, and halted at arm's length from Sanzo, head lowered, shoulders hunched. Sanzo scoffed, a loud, palpable “tch,” and pushed Goku's shoulder. “In the room.”

Goku didn't have to be told twice. Sanzo slammed the door shut behind them, and immediately whipped around and advanced on Goku, backing him towards the bed. “What the fuck do you want?”

“Meatbuns, anzu ice cream, and to sleep in tomorrow. What else?” Goku forced a beaming grin and kept his knees locked, even as Sanzo craned his neck in, his nose and mouth too tantalizingly close to his.

“Moron, that's not what I meant. You little shit.” Sanzo crossed his arms, then whipped the harisen out. “You want this. This is what you want, isn't it?”

Goku swallowed, because his mind had shot right to the pleasure that came after the pain. He kept his composure. “Not just that.”

“You like it when I yell at you, is that it? Do you get off on pissing me off? It would sure as shit explain a lot!” Sanzo threw the fan onto the table behind him, and Goku cringed as it clattered against the glasses and pitcher, but Sanzo didn't look, didn't care. His face was flushed red, his eyes bright and wet as if fevered, and this close, he smelled of nicotine and man and _so good_ and Goku didn't even care that he was getting screamed at. He swallowed to gather his thoughts.

“It's not just that.”

“Then what is it? You dance around and avoid me for weeks, acting like a fucking weirdo, and damn near throw your life away because it turns out you like getting hurt?!”

“I like when you hurt me.” Goku admitted, but pushed his palm against Sanzo's shoulder to make some space between them. “But I keep telling you, it's not just that.”

“Then what is it?” Sanzo pushed Goku right back, and this buckled him to a sit. “What do you want? Do you want me to beat you to a pulp? Is that what you want? Would that get you off?!”

“No. I'm pretty sure it's just you.” Goku set his palms behind him, his facade failing him and his face falling as Sanzo's anger only seemed to ramp up. He balled his fists and heaved deep, searing breaths, in and out.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

"It's not about the hitting. It's not just about hurting." Goku cringed his eyes shut, as Sanzo's breathing came louder and louder. "I had time to think about it, and I figured out it's only 'cause it's you. I guess it's just, if this is how I can get you to touch me, I'll take it, y'know?"

Sanzo breathed harder and harder, and Goku lifted his face just enough to see that Sanzo was bright red and trembling. Then, Sanzo's hands were on him, clenching the front of his shirt in tight fists, and he pulled him up towards him.

“You idiot,” he choked, and this time, Goku didn't believe it, because Sanzo's words were strained as if he were still trying to hold them back, “You're so desperate for me to touch you, you learned to _like_ being hit?”

Goku didn't answer. He surged up towards Sanzo to close the last of the distance, and captured Sanzo's mouth in a kiss. It was clumsy, he couldn't tell what to do with his mouth, and though he tried to taste Sanzo's lips and tongue, he just ended up fumbling against his mouth and chin. Sanzo, however, seized and held his chin still and... reciprocated.

He kissed Goku with excessive care, too careful, but with a few nips to Goku's lower lip: a clean answer to the unspoken question. Sanzo withdrew, but shook his head and rubbed his forehead against Goku's. “Idiot,” he whispered, then kissed Goku again, deeper.

Goku wasn't going to make Sanzo say it, say what he'd figured out a long time ago. “Hey,” he muttered against Sanzo's mouth, and rubbed his nose to his. “I'm not the guy who hits people instead of just being nice to them.”

That got Sanzo's hand in his hair. “Do you want me to hit you?” He was scowling, but it was clearly taking a lot of effort for him to do it. Goku, of course, figured the best way to go about this was honestly.

“Sure, if you think you'll like it.” With that, he unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, then shrugged it down his shoulders and stretched his fingers out to tiptoe up Sanzo's chest. “But if you're gonna do it, I wanna do it right.”

Sanzo rolled his eyes, then pulled his robe open. “Impatient bastard. Fine.” He swaggered a few steps around the bed as he disrobed, sliding the silks of his robe down sleek shoulders, as smooth and chiseled as sure as if he'd been hewed from marble. Goku watched helplessly, because this was so much better than the few furtive looks he stole in the shower. Sanzo was doing this just so he could see, pacing across the room with the poise of a silent lion shaking his mane out. He ran his fingers back through his hair as he shucked the robe completed and dropped it, then faced Goku. “And like you said, we're doing this right.” He set his hands on his hips. “If whatever we do is too much, you will tell me to stop. The safe word is nicotine.”

“Nicotine?”

“You won't say it by accident. If I hear that word, everything stops, I wrap you in a blanket and we sleep.” Sanzo squeezed his thumbs in the hollows of his thighs, then leaned close to Goku. “Now, what do you want?”

Goku swallowed once, twice, then leaned forward towards Sanzo, and hooked his fingers in his waistband. “I've been pretty bad. You probably oughta yell at me and beat some sense into me.”

Sanzo seized Goku by the hair and pulled him up into a fiercer kiss, and Goku could feel how warm his face was, how hot his mouth, and Goku couldn't help but love how tight he was holding him. Sanzo ran his blunt fingernails down Goku's back, then soothed the flat of his palm back up the gooseflesh raised in his wake. Then, he let go all at once and all but threw Goku back, the motions obviously unpracticed. “Get on your knees. Naked. Hands behind your back. Don't you dare move unless I tell you.”

Goku damn near jumped, because that was the “do it or I'll shoot you” tone, and Goku wasted no time in stripping his pants off and trying not too look too eager as he got into the camel pose on the center of the bed. Sanzo continued to pace in front of him, his eyes thin, wild-looking slits as he drank Goku in. Goku felt his belly flip-flop as Sanzo took the fan up from where it had fallen. He slowly sauntered towards Goku, fan in hand, and tossed it in his palm a few times, as if testing its weight. Goku watched, almost drooling, as Sanzo examined his weapon, damn near itching with eagerness as he waited. He would have dived for Sanzo and dragged him into it, but if he moved, he'd never know what Sanzo was planning. He held his breath, his heart fluttering at the prison bars of his ribcage, as Sanzo loomed, ever too close.

Then, all of a sudden, Sanzo's face was next to his, his breath hot on his cheeks, as he growled, “You stupid bastard, you almost died trying not to get this.” Then, his arm was back and the fan with it. “Never do that again!” He slapped Goku hard across the face, and Goku squeaked at the impact, then dared to look at Sanzo.

“Nicotine. Not the face.” Sanzo, his cheeks already flushed, raised an eyebrow, then grabbed the back of Goku's neck.

“On your front.”

Sanzo forced Goku down onto his belly, his knees still bent, and got him into an awkward kneel with his face in the quilt and his arms pinned at his sides. Goku was halfway hard already, because a shirtless Sanzo ordering him around was pushing all of his buttons, but damn, being forced like this was weirdly hot. Goku could see Sanzo's shadow as he slunk around the bed to his side, but he still yelped when the fan slapped his shoulder. His hips jerked involuntarily, but Sanzo followed up with another swat just a little lower down his back, then laid a line of stinging blows all the way to his tailbone. He ran his cool palm down the little welts forming from the blows, and Goku groaned a soft plea at the sensation, like cold silk against his heated skin. His knees rubbed in the satin of the quilt, and he realized if he moved, he would lose traction and Sanzo would probably stop. There was no way he could get any friction on his dick like this. Maybe that was what Sanzo wanted.

Then, Sanzo traced a single long, callused finger down the line of his spine, and followed it up with a swat to Goku's asscheek from the fan. Goku's hips jerked again, this time with surprise, and he tried to writhe down. His dick felt heavy and ached, and he wished he had something to rub against. The best he could do was arc into the sensation, the resounding sting of the slap. A shiver ran down his spine, and all he could say was “More.”

He heard Sanzo make a strange noise, but Goku recognized a moan, even through lips forced shut. Sanzo ran his hand down Goku's back again, then wound back and struck Goku, this time with his bare hand. Goku saw stars, and gasped eager approval. Pain prickled in Sanzo's wake, but his dick was twitching insistently as he curled and released his toes. He tried to work a hand down to his prick, but Sanzo braced his knee on the mattress and pinned Goku with a hand on the base of his neck.

“Don't you move,” he hissed, and shit, he sounded breathless, and now that he was this close, Goku could smell his arousal, raw musk and salt and sweat that curled into his head and exploded there. Goku whimpered as Sanzo struck him again, his hand flat, the muscle of his thin palm making a resounding crack, and he couldn't withhold a soft, “yes-s-s-s” at the lingering pain. Sanzo snarled, and launched into a round of stinging blows. He struck Goku in circles across both sides of his ass, up and down his thighs, the pain radiating through him into dark pleasure. His skin felt like it was on fire, he was sure his butt was bright red by the time Sanzo stopped. He exhaled, then gulped an inhale, his chest tight, his heart hammering at his stomach. Above him, Sanzo was panting, and Goku could feel him trembling in what little space remained between them. He twisted his neck just enough to see him, Sanzo swaying as if drunk on pure adrenaline, cupping his cock through the seam of his battered jeans, and Goku whined at the sight.

Spurred on, Sanzo sank onto the bed, straddling Goku's hips, and slapped his ass again, and Goku cried out. Sanzo was so close, _he was so close_ , and Goku was sure that if he weren't absolutely drowning in sensation and still thirsting for more, he would barely have heard Sanzo snarl, “You won't go anywhere.” He struck him the other way, and Goku felt his balls draw up tight, aching, squeezing at him. “Get it all right here.” Another slap, and Goku's dick surged with heat and excitement. “Not gonna leave.” He struck Goku in a series of smacks with increasing tempo, swiping in different directions, still growling, “Right here. Nowhere else.” And then, he punctuated each word with a strike: “And- don't- you- dare- forget it- you- stupid- stupid- MONKEY!” Goku groaned his pleasure, and Sanzo seized his dick and stroked it from base to tip, hard. “Come for me.”

Goku didn't have to be told twice, and like that, he let go and everything came spilling out in release with wild abandon. He came in bursts onto the comforter, so abrupt they were nearly painful, and so hard his vision went white for a few seconds. He groaned a denial as Sanzo released him and smoothed his hand over his ass and muttered quiet reassurance, “That's it, that's right.” He felt Sanzo pull away, then heard him grunt a few times. Goku glanced a few times, and saw his hand cupping his erection through the seam of his jeans, and then saw him bite his lower lip and lock his knees all at once. _Sanzo just came in his pants._

Goku sleepily blinked back the thrill of that thought, groaning a soft denial as he tried to swipe the mess off of the comforter under him. The room was suddenly too bright, or maybe he was just wiped from release. Before he let himself collapse, Sanzo caught him under the arms and dragged him to the top of the bed, laid him on his back then pulled the soiled comforter back and wrapped the bed's blanket around Goku's chest. Goku wasn't sure what this was, but it was all his fuzzy mind could do to follow Sanzo around the room.

“S... Sanzo...?” He squinted as Sanzo shucked his jeans, wadded them up, and pitched them into the corner, then turned the lamp off. Goku could barely see Sanzo in the dark as his eyes adjusted to what little light was coming from outside, not until he felt the bed shift and Sanzo's lips were on his cheek. Goku turned into the kiss and returned it clumsily – god, did he hope he had time to learn to do that right – then leaned into Sanzo's chest. To his surprise, Sanzo wrapped his arms around his waist.

“That's good. You're safe here,” he muttered, and stroked Goku's hair. “Did you... like that?” He'd wobbled a little on the word 'like,' but Goku didn't have the cogency to puzzle out what that meant.

“Oh man, Sanzo.” Goku nodded against his breast. It was better than he could have imagined for two people who had next to no idea what they were doing. They'd both gotten where they wanted to go, at least. His backside still ached, but the way it cooled off in the afterglow felt almost as good as the initial strike and sting. “It was good. It's like, you can hurt me, but I know you won't actually hurt me, so it's okay, and it's just... it's like...”

“It's a thrill. Like fighting. It's exciting.” Sanzo ran a hand back through Goku's hair. Goku looked up at him, his eyes adjusting to the low light to see that Sanzo seemed serene and content.

“You... did you like it?”

Sanzo didn't answer immediately, instead stroking Goku's hair a few more times. “I...” His mouth hung open on the syllable for a moment, and he shrugged a little. “I didn't hate it.”

“C'mon, Sanzo.” Goku lightly punched Sanzo's thigh. In his weary state, it came off as a tiny push, but Sanzo rolled his eyes anyway.

“I took 'control freak' to a new low. And I didn't hate it.”

“Then...” Goku traced a few little circles on Sanzo's leg, and Sanzo didn't bother to push him away. “Maybe again sometime?”

Sanzo scoffed, and lightly swatted the back of his head. “Greedy monkey, I give an inch, you yank a mile.” Then, the swat turned into a ruffle, leaving Goku's hair in a messy crown of fluff. “Maybe again sometime.” Sanzo withdrew his hand, and there was a click and hiss as Sanzo found his lighter and cigarettes, and there was a flicker of flame against Sanzo's face. “For now, sleep. I've got you.”

Goku relaxed in the familiar scent of Sanzo's cigarette, and slumped down against his chest. Sanzo slipped his arm around his waist as he took a long drag on his smoke, the slope of his back just visible in the narrow, dim moonlight through the curtain, and Goku smiled to himself.

“Maybe?” “Sometime?” No way. Now that he'd figured out just what it was he wanted, and that there was a chance he could have it, he was going to go for it, all in. He couldn't help it; this want, this need, was irresistible, and he would get what he wanted or needed one way or another.

This was the start of something spectacularly good.

 


End file.
